In 1990, I had a personal and political encounter with the
religious right. Born in Philadelphia, educated there and in New
York, I moved to South Carolina in 1976 to teach at the College of
Charleston. Before 1990, I was vaguely aware of living in the
“Bible Belt,” but blissfully unaware of what it really meant or how
it could affect me. After all, as a mathematics professor, my
cultural life was wrapped around the wonderfully insulated world
of academe. I was about to learn how the influence and
effectiveness of the religious right would significantly change my
world forever.

Why would a liberal, Yankee, atheist Jew, who had never before
sought political office, suddenly become a South Carolina
gubernatorial candidate? My political saga began when a colleague
at the College of Charleston pointed out a clause in the South
Carolina Constitution that, “No person shall be eligible for the
office of governor who denies the existence of the Supreme
Being.”

Article VI of the U.S. Constitution prohibits religious tests as
qualification to any public office. So, I consulted a local attorney,
who worked pro bono for the South Carolina affiliate of the
ACLU. I asked him how this obviously unconstitutional provision
could be removed. The attorney told me the only way to challenge
it would be through an actual candidacy by someone who publicly
declared him or herself an atheist. In fact, he said, the very best
candidate would be me—in a race for governor of South Carolina!

After giving this surprising suggestion much thought, I agreed
to run. I assumed, in my political naïveté, the state attorney general
would simply consent to bring South Carolina into compliance
with federal law. I even found that the United Citizens Party, a
small party that rarely ran candidates for any office, was willing to
nominate me. Of course, I neither expected nor wanted to be
elected.

Much to my amazement, my announced candidacy drew
national attention, because it seemed so unusual. South Carolina
Governor Carroll Campbell reacted by declaring that the state
Constitution was fine as it was because the country was founded on
Godly principles. However, the first political fence I had to mend
was with my astonished and disapproving mother. She had read an
Associated Press story about my candidacy in the Philadelphia
Inquirer. I had to admit that reading her morning newspaper was
not the best way to find out that her only son was a gubernatorial
candidate—and an atheist!

I never thought my constitutional challenge would reach so far
geographically. And, like many nonbelievers, I wanted to spare
family members the potential discomfort such a revelation could
bring. After I calmed my mother down, she admitted she was not
so distressed about my actually being an atheist. She was more
worried about the possible damage to my reputation by such an
open and public admission.

I told a reporter that I knew of no acknowledged atheists
holding public office anywhere in the country, but I expected there
were “closet atheists” in South Carolina and elsewhere. An AP
story in the Charleston News & Courier on May 3, 1990, printed
responses by South Carolina legislators. Rep. Lenoir Sturkie called
my statement, “political maneuvering and a bunch of hogwash.”
He added he knew of no atheists in the state legislature. Rep. Larry
Martin assured the citizenry that more than ninety percent of the
legislators were “very active in their local churches above and
beyond their belief in God.” Martin, a Southern Baptist, also
offered to pray for me.

Meanwhile, the South Carolina Election Commission noticed a
story printed in the News & Courier. The story had alleged
“irregularities” in the way I obtained the nomination of the United
Citizens Party. On May 15, the Election Commission voted 3-2
that this should be investigated by the State Law Enforcement
Division (SLED). The following day, the News & Courier ran an
uncomplimentary editorial about my alleged misdeeds under the
headline “Panel Wants Silverman Inquiry.” Neither the election
commission nor the newspaper offered me an opportunity to
defend myself against any charges, although I had informed SLED
of my willingness to cooperate and provide them with appropriate
documentation.

After hearing nothing about the investigation for eight weeks, I
again called SLED. I was told the investigation was nearly
complete and my input would not be needed. A few days later, the
election commission issued a report that irregularities had been
found by SLED and therefore, I would not be allowed on the
ballot. It seems one of the United Citizens Party leaders had been
badgered by law enforcement officers about why he was
supporting an atheist. Eventually, he said he did not understand the
document he was signing when I received the party nomination. I
had witnesses who could have proved otherwise. My ACLU
lawyer said I had a legitimate grievance with the election
commission, but he pointed out our case would not be jeopardized
if I campaigned as a write-in candidate, which I agreed to do.

I campaigned across the state, appearing in as many “Meet the
Candidate” forums as I could persuade to invite me. I always
explained that I viewed my case as a civil rights issue. After a
forum, the audience often had a chance to speak with the
candidates over refreshments. At one such event in the city of
Spartanburg, people were keeping their distance from me, as
invariably happened. But as I was leaving, one man approached me
and hurriedly whispered he was a high-school principal and just
wanted to let me know how brave he thought I was to say what I
did. He then quickly walked away.

I also appeared on radio talk shows. I would typically be
introduced as a “so-called” atheist, or an “admitted” atheist. I
wondered what the reaction would have been if another guest had
been introduced as a “so-called” Presbyterian, or an “admitted”
Southern Baptist. Christian conservative callers would often ask if
I worshipped Satan, since I “had to believe in something.”
However, the oddest comments came from callers who assumed I
must feel free to rape, murder, or commit all sorts of atrocities
because I did not believe in a judging God. I told those callers that,
with such an attitude, I hoped they maintained their belief in a
God—for the sake of society!

I received many condemnatory and proselytizing letters from
the religious right. On the rare occasions a return address was
included, I wrote back and explained my point of view. I was
learning that my campaign was needed not simply to change an
unconstitutional state provision. More important was my attempt to
change the hearts and minds of my fellow South Carolinians.

My day in court came on October 5, 1990, a month before the
election. The state Attorney General had refused to declare the
religious test for public office unconstitutional. Instead, he sent
three lawyers to challenge me on four grounds: mootness, because
I was denied nomination by a party; standing, because I was not a
legitimate candidate; ripeness, meaning there was no need to
decide the case at the moment; and the Eleventh Amendment,
regarding restrictions on suing state officials.

I thought it ironic that the News & Courier had recently ended
an editorial with, “If Mr. Silverman truly is trying to teach
tolerance rather than atheism, as he says, then he will think twice
about legal challenges that needlessly consume taxpayer dollars.”In truth, the state was spending thousands of dollars to enforce an
obviously unconstitutional provision.

On judgment day, Judge David Norton dismissed the case on
grounds it was not ripe because I had little chance of winning.
Norton had just been appointed to the U.S. District Court of South
Carolina upon nomination by Senator Strom Thurmond. In effect,
he refused to rule on the constitutional issue unless I won the
election—which, of course, I did not.

A few months later, I discovered that South Carolina’s
Constitution prohibited atheists from holding any public office. My
lawyer told me I could challenge this by applying for a notary
public license. A virtually identical provision of the Maryland
Constitution had been struck down in 1961 by the U.S. Supreme
Court in Torcaso v. Watkins. If South Carolina were to grant me a
notary public license, it would be an admission by the state that
religious tests could no longer be a qualification for public office.

My attorney expected this notary campaign to be shorter and
more successful than my gubernatorial campaign. Shorter, it was
not! South Carolina is normally one of the easiest states to become
a notary. All applications are routinely approved by the office of
the governor. I paid my $25 fee in October of 1991, but crossed out
the phrase “so help me God” on the application. I also mentioned
that the U.S. Constitution prohibits religious tests as a qualification
for public office.

Secretary of State Jim Miles returned my application on the
grounds I had not filled out the form properly. My lawyer then sent
it directly to Governor Carroll Campbell, who rejected it. When we
asked why, a spokesperson for his office replied it would be far too
burdensome to give reasons for every negative decision. Later, in a
deposition taken from Secretary Miles in 1994, he was forced to
disclose that 33,471 notary applications were approved from 1991
to 1993. Mine was the only one denied in that period. To my
knowledge, I am the only person in the history of South Carolina to
be rejected as a notary public.

Governor Campbell left office in January 1995. He claimed
immunity from giving a deposition where he might be compelled
to state under oath the reason for denying me the notary. Then we
got help from a most unlikely source. My ACLU lawyer argued
successfully in circuit court that if the lawyers of Paula Corbin
Jones could depose President Clinton, then former Governor
Campbell could no longer avoid being deposed.

In an ironic coincidence, John Whitehead, founder of the
politically conservative Rutherford Institute, defended Paula Jones
in her case against Clinton. In his book, The Second American
Revolution, Whitehead had blasted the U.S. Supreme Court for
striking down religious requirements for public office in the 1961
Torcaso v. Watkins case. This decision was the basis for my case.
In that ruling, Whitehead wrote, the Supreme Court, “rejected
Judeo-Christian theism as the religion and foundation of the United
States.” Whitehead is correct in his assertion. The Supreme Court
affirmed we are, indeed, a secular nation in which religious tests
for public office are unconstitutional.

My lawyer took an eighty-six-page deposition from Governor
Campbell on March 3, 1995. Among his many convoluted
responses, the governor argued why it might be permissible to
deny office based on religious beliefs:

Would it be right to have somebody running for public office
that was avowed to overthrow and destroy the United States
of America, and they didn’t believe in a supreme being but
they believed in a foreign government, and they call that a
religion?

On August 2, 1995, the presiding judge of the Fifth Judicial
Circuit in the Court of Common Pleas said my petition to be a
notary met all the legal requirements. He requested that the
governor act on my application within thirty days. Former
governor Carroll Campbell had successfully resisted granting me a
notary while in office. So, the decision now resided with his
successor, Governor David Beasley. He had been elected in 1994
with strong Christian Coalition support. A born-again Christian,
Beasley hoped to see creationism incorporated into the public
school curriculum.

Secretary of State James Miles urged state officials to appeal the
Circuit Court decision because he did not think the provision
represented religious discrimination. He said, “I believe that
language is appropriate because I’m a Christian.” Unwilling to go
quietly, even after losing a judicial reconsideration appeal,
Governor Beasley then appealed to the South Carolina Supreme
Court.

A headline in the renamed Charleston Post & Courier on
October 31, 1995, read, “Gov. David Beasley wants the S.C.
Supreme Court to decide if office seekers should be forced to
believe in a Supreme Being.”

I responded to an inquiring reporter that I understood how I
could be forced to say I believe (torture would work!). But
Governor Beasley did not clarify how I could actually be forced to
believe. My point was that it is proper for government to regulate
some behavior, but it can never regulate belief. In interviews, I
could not resist mentioning that the state considered me qualified
to be a professor of mathematics at a public institution, yet it
deemed me lacking high enough ethical and moral standards for
the office of notary public. Perhaps the value of religious
indoctrination over reason and scientific inquiry might help explain
the dismal condition of education in South Carolina today, where
SAT scores have been among the lowest in the nation for many
years.

The state Supreme Court heard my case in October 1996. A
local reporter asked me why I thought Governor Beasley was
appealing to the state Supreme Court. I said I was under the
assumption that Governor Beasley, who had a law degree, knew
religious tests for public office were unconstitutional. “By trying to
exclude nonbelievers,” I said, “I think he is simply playing to the
religious bigotry of a segment of his constituency.”

In the same article, Gary Karr, the Governor’s press secretary,
responded that he “denies in the strongest terms that Governor
Beasley is a religious bigot and thinks it is a shame that Dr.
Silverman would attack the governor’s religious beliefs like
that.”

Good news for me came on May 27, 1997. The state Supreme Court
unanimously affirmed the Circuit Court’s holding that the South
Carolina Constitution violated the First Amendment and the Religious
Test Clause of the United States Constitution. Ironically, I shared top
billing in the local paper the next day with the person whose lawsuit
paved the way for our deposition of Governor Campbell. The two side-by-side headlines in the Charleston Post & Courier were: “Atheist wins
fight against ‘God clause’” and “High court says Jones is clear to sue
Clinton.”

The May 30 Spartanburg Herald-Journal opinion page said:

Silverman may not be a completely sympathetic figure as he
pursues office just to make a point for atheist rights. But he should
not be disqualified from the political life of the state solely because
of his religious beliefs or the lack thereof.

Nevertheless, Governor Beasley still had a tough call to make. He did
not want to be the first governor of South Carolina to grant a notary
commission to an acknowledged atheist. However, he was reluctant to
appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court for a couple of reasons. His lawyers
had concentrated on the states’ rights argument that state officials had
sworn to uphold the state constitution without regard to previous U.S.
Supreme Court decisions. How could they then ask the federal
government to interfere with the unanimous decision of the highest court
in the sovereign state of South Carolina?

In addition, South Carolina had recently squandered a substantial
amount of taxpayer dollars attempting to keep women out of The
Citadel, a South Carolina military college for men only. More litigation
was anticipated for having recently posted the Ten Commandments in
the Charleston County Council chambers. Conservative state officials
did not want to be criticized for wasting even more taxpayer dollars on
what would obviously be another costly and fruitless appeal of my case.
Finally, on August 8, 1997, Governor Beasley mailed me my notary
commission.

Though I had hoped in 1990 for quick affirmation of an atheist’s right
to hold public office, the protracted engagement added undeniable
benefits to my life. I received considerable media attention in South
Carolina, which afforded me the opportunity to publicize a point of view
not often heard in the Bible belt. After each such appearance, I received
enthusiastic phone calls and mail from people who thought they were the
only ones in South Carolina with those beliefs. This encouraged me to
help found the Secular Humanists of the Lowcountry, a vibrant
community of local freethinkers who meet monthly. Best of all for me,
personally, I met my wife, Sharon Fratepietro¾in church! When I was
running for governor in 1990, she heard me speak at the local Unitarian
Church. She offered to help in my campaign, and we have been together
ever since.

Recently, one of my mathematics students, unfamiliar with my case,
saw my notary sign prominently displayed in my office and asked if I’d
had to go to law school to become a notary. I told him it was not quite
that simple. Law school would have taken only three years. It took
longer for me to receive my notary commission than my Ph.D. in
mathematics! Of course, my right to become a notary should not have
taken seven years or happened the way it did, but in many ways it was
well worth the wait.

Although the religious right was ultimately unsuccessful in preventing
me from becoming a notary public, my case indicates the influence they
can exert over politicians. None of the political leaders in South Carolina,
and certainly not the lawyers advising them, believed they could prevail
legally if I continued to pursue my case. Yet, those same politicians
demonstrated they would rather waste time and money on a lost cause
than risk the wrath and lose the votes of a well-organized religious right.